Irony
by Heliotrope-Housecat
Summary: As kids, Edward, Alphonse and Winry would play games, never realising the irony in their actions and words. Could a simple game today be a clue of things to come? Oneshot focusing on the Risembool kids.


A/N: I wanted to write something ironic and mostly speech. Just a little bit of fun, really! Here, Al is 8, Ed and Winry are both 9 and Trisha is still alive but very ill. This happens directly before the boys arrive home to find Trisha unconscious on the floor. Oh yeah - British-English spellings and grammar used throughout, so no complaining at the silent 'u's.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. If I did I wouldn't be slaving away trying to get myself a degree in the Earth Sciences and I would live in Japan. Credit for its creation must go to the creative cow herself, Hiromu Arakawa-san.

**Irony**

It was guaranteed that whenever the boys went round Winry's house and the weather was bad, they would inevitably end up playing 'Doctors and Nurses' Rockbell style. Today was no different. Rain teemed from the purple sky, running in fat rivulets down the windows and pattering heavily on the shingle roof. They were cooped up in Winry's small, pale blue bedroom, Pinako having ushered them out of her workspace downstairs as she had at least three orders to complete before next Monday.

"I hate it when it rains," moaned Ed, watching the water overspill from some loose guttering just outside the window. His right arm was covered entirely in cream coloured bandages, wound tightly from his wrist up to his shoulder. "Can I take these bandages off now? I have pins and needles in my fingers."

"Ed – if you take them off you'll bleed to death!" said Winry. "You're supposed to have lost an arm."

"Why am I always the amputee?" he moaned. "I'm fed up of getting covered in bandages and lying still. Why can't Al be the patient for once?"

"Because he's my assistant," she said, brandishing a wrench as if the presence of a large, threatening tool made all the difference to her argument. "I'm always the automail surgeon, you're the amputee and Al is the nurse…"

"I don't wanna be a nurse," said Al timidly, eying Winry's wrench while struggling to hold a small wriggling puppy in his arms. Den didn't enjoy being held much. "Nurses are girls."

"You can have boy nurses Al," said Winry. "Lots of nurses are male."

"I don't wanna be a nurse though," he replied with a slight pout, letting Den slip through his arms to the floor. "Just 'cause I'm the youngest… you always pick on me!"

"Hey – who's the amputee?" said Ed, waving his bandaged arm.

"It's not because you're the youngest, Al. It's because I need an assistant to help with the surgery and you're just so very good at it. Ed's too impatient to be a nurse," Winry explained. Ed snorted, tugging the bandages so they were looser while Winry wasn't watching him.

"I'd still rather not be a nurse though," said Al. "Can't I be something else? Like a gynaecologist or something? Mum said she visited one of them once."

Winry giggled hysterically and Ed raised an eyebrow, remembering partly the reason his mother had visited the doctor in the first place (when he asked, she had said something about a 'smear test', but he had no idea what that was).

"What's so funny?" asked Al naively.

"Al, do you know what a gynaecologist does?" tittered Winry, covering her mouth.

"I know a gynaecologist is a type of doctor…" he muttered. "It can't be worse than a nurse."

"Ed doesn't need a gynaecologist," giggled Winry. "A gynaecologist is a doctor for women. They… erm… they deal with women's… erm… bums, I suppose. The baby-making organs and periods and stuff. Things Ed does not and will never have."

Ed started laughing and Al blushed.

"Oh gross," exclaimed Al. "I don't wanna be a gynaecologist any more… girls butts are where cooties are born!"

"Might as well be a Midwife," joked Ed. "They deal with women's private parts also."

"Shut up Ed," muttered Al, blushing a bright shade of crimson.

"Yeah Ed," said Winry, sticking up for Al and brandishing the wrench again. "Admit it – you didn't know either!"

Ed shut up, knowing if he didn't she would hit him with it. He had learnt that the hard way. She never hit Al though… always him.

"Maybe you could just be a medical assistant, Al. That's like a nurse, but not exactly the same," she said to him kindly as his blush faded slowly from his flushed face.

"OK," he replied. "Just as long as I'm not a nurse…"

"You're not a nurse," she confirmed.

"Good," he said. "I don't mind being an assistant – I like to help."

"Great – fetch the tin foil from the shelf," she instructed, to which Al obeyed, stretching out with a chubby arm to reach the shelf.

"Oh great," sighed Ed. "The foil again."

Because they obviously couldn't use real automail to play 'doctors and nurses' with, Winry substituted with common kitchen tin foil, covering the existing limb with the shiny, crinkled metal sheeting. They didn't always use foil as automail though. One time, while playing 'Medieval' they had covered Al in the stuff like an Egyptian mummy and made him an armoured knight. He had to 'save' Winry from her treetop prison by fighting 'dragon' Ed, all while wearing copious amounts of what most people use to cover a Sunday roast.

Al brought the box of foil over to Winry who took it from him and sat it on the floor. She began removing the bandages from Ed's arm, acting as if she was undressing a serious wound. Then she noticed something.

"Ed, did you loosen these?" she asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"No…" mumbled Ed, looking shifty.

"Yes you did – I saw you!" snitched Al, pointing accusingly.

"I did not!" replied Ed indignantly, sitting up on the bed. "You're seeing things."

"You did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn't!"

"Did!"

"Didn-OW!"

"Enough!" Winry hit Ed sharply with her wrench. He rubbed the top of his head tenderly with his un-bandaged hand.

"Jeez Winry…" he muttered.

"Shut up – this is no way for a patient to behave. You must lie down," she instructed, pushing him back down onto the bed and removing the rest of the bandages. "With a wound like this you're supposed be in a lot of pain." Ed rolled his eyes, feeling bored.

"Even if I was in pain, I wouldn't show it," he snorted. "Not like screaming and crying ever helped anyone."

"You realise Automail surgery causes even the toughest of men to cry and scream?" said Winry. Ed snorted again and held out his arm.

"Just get it over with," he sighed. She nodded enthusiastically and began wrapping foil round his outstretched limb until it was encased in aluminium sheet, getting Al to help her smooth out the creases.

"The legs as well," she proclaimed with a grin once they had done.

"Why?" asked Ed in a weary voice. He was bored of this game. He wanted to go and read, curl himself up in a cosy armchair someplace with an alchemy book or something similar.

"Why not," Winry replied simply, eyes shining. "Some people lose more than one limb at once you know."

"Fine," Ed sighed deeply and allowed Al to remove the boot of his left leg. "But just the one – it's a waste of foil as it is!"

"Eeew… Ed, your feet stink!" proclaimed Al, dropping the boot on the floor.

"So do yours!" Ed replied grumpily. "Shut up!" Glancing briefly out of the window he saw with mild annoyance that the rain had finally stopped. He lay back with a sigh and examined the ceiling while his best friend and his brother covered his foot in foil, feeling the tightness of the metal wrapped neatly around his arm. He started daydreaming, as he often did while bored, stories and thoughts running through his head. He wondered about what it would be like to have real Automail.

Pretty cool probably.

While it would never compare to a real arm, you could hit people really hard if they annoyed you and with the right alchemical reaction, you could turn an arm into a blade. Now _that_ would be awesome. He started to work out the required formula in his head for performing such a feat.

"You could at least act as if you're in pain," moaned Winry as Ed just lay there gazing at the ceiling with a sleepy, closed expression. She pretended to tighten bolts on the foil using her wrench. "You make a terrible patient," she said. He glanced at her briefly.

"Aaarrrgghh," he proclaimed sarcastically in a deadpan voice. "Oh man, I am in so much agony. Will nobody stop my pain."

"Spoil sport…" she muttered while Al giggled.

"You done yet?" Ed asked, mildly irritated. He hated sitting still for so long.

"Almost… yep. We're done," said Winry happily. "Congratulations – you now have Automail."

"Whoopee…" muttered Ed. "Can I take it off now?"

"No – we gotta show Auntie first," proclaimed Al, grinning. "Let her see what a god job we did!"

"Do we have to?" moaned Ed. "Besides, if I move the foil will rip and crinkle…"

Winry examined him briefly, an idea floating around her pretty head.

"Al… grab under his armpits…" she instructed, moving to the foot of the bed to grasp hold oh his ankles.

"What – NO!" Ed protested as they hoisted him off the bed. He squirmed around a bit, trying to wiggle free. "Put me down!"

"Stop moving around Ed," she scolded. "This way the automail won't get damaged! Besides, if it was real automail the patient would need help moving around for up to two years after the surgery."

Ed sighed in annoyance. "Its frikkin' _foil_, Winry!" he complained, but he stopped moving and allowed then to carry him awkwardly downstairs with a grumpy expression.

"Granny!" yelled Al excitedly as they shuffled into the kitchen where Pinako sat at the table measuring out length of multicoloured wire. "Look Granny! We gave Nii-san automail!"

"Did we do a good job?" Winry added. They dropped Ed unceremoniously onto the hard floorboards of the kitchen with an annoyed yelp. He struggled to his feet, muttering curses under his breath but trying not to rumple the foil as he stood so as not to hurt their feelings or upset them.

"We made it with foil," explained Al with a childish grin.

"It's very nice dears," said Pinako kindly. "It reminds me of that armour you made Alphonse last summer. You kids are certainly creative I'll give you that!"

"Wouldn't it be great if one day we could make Ed some real automails!" exclaimed Winry excitably, eyes glowing. "That would be so cool – give him all the latest upgrades and gadgets."

"Great for who?" grumbled Ed.

"I dunno about great, Winry," said Pinako. "Unfortunate, maybe."

"Yeah Winry," Ed said with a grin, removing the foil from his arm and leg and placing it on the table. "It's not like I'm gonna go and lose my limbs anytime soon…"

Al laughed nervously and Winry glared slightly, her visions crushed.

"You never know," she said. "It might happen…"

"Whether or not it happens is irrelevant," said Pinako. "Boys, it's nearly 5 o' clock – you should be heading back for tea soon. Your mother might need some help - I know she's been feeling a little under the weather lately. Remember to take that fruit and veg I left for her in the baskets by the porch."

"OK Granny – thanks!" Ed and Al said in unison. "We'll come over again tomorrow, 'k," Al added, looking at Winry with a smile.

"You better," she said.

Ed picked up the baskets of various vegetables and handed one to Al. "Bye Granny – Bye Winry!" he yelled gleefully.

"Bye!" Al echoed as they ran out the door and down the lane. Ed jumped into a couple of puddles happily, smiling as the sun broke through the clouds.

"Race ya!" he challenged, sprinting off into the distance.

"Nii-san – that's not fair! You got a head start!" Al cried, in pursuit and clutching the basket tightly.

"You're so slow, Al!" Ed said jokingly as they raced home together, laughing and without a care in the world.

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A/N: So there you have it - a little story about Ed being covered in tin foil. The idea was almost too cute. Hope you all liked it :)


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